Three Perfect Little Girls
by Ambikai
Summary: Sherlock creates the PowerPuff Girls: three perfect little girls from sugar, spice, everything nice ... and some fungus in a petri dish. John is not amused.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own BBC Sherlock or the Powerpuff Girls  
><strong>AN: **Written for a prompt on the _sherlockbbc kink meme_, where Sherlock somehow creates the PowerPuff Girls - this is half a serious fill and half me doing it just for the lols of doing a serious attempt at bringing the Powerpuff girls into existent ... that and I have such fond memories of these guys that it would be a pity not to. Originally posted on my LJ. Hasn't been beta'd.

**Summary: **Sherlock creates the Powerpuff Girls. John is not amused.

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><p><strong>Three Perfect Little Girls<strong>

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><p>If he had been told that he would find himself looking after three hyperactive small children when he moved in with a certain Sherlock Holmes, then John would've probably kept looking for a place to stay in London. He didn't mind kids, he really didn't but he wasn't about to move in with a bunch of them. It wasn't John's thing, you see. He knew if he did than inevitably he would become an unofficial babysitter and so that was why he wouldn't have moved in.<p>

Plenty of people assumed he was a family-man and would be great around kids, and yet the seemed to forget John had never married, had a reputation as 'Three-Continents' Watson, and was still a bachelor at thirty-seven. Sure he dated women but they never lasted that long - not that he didn't want a long relationship but there was a point where you needed to decide if you were in or out (luckily for John he was such an amiable guy that when he decided he was out, the break-up more or less went smoothly). But anyway, that all seemed to be forgotten and the assumption was that he would be good with kids.

He supposed he was alright - for an hour or so but on a permanent basis it wasn't a viable consideration for him.

So when he came home to find three little girls who will playing on their living room floor with Sherlock's magnifying glass, reading Sherlock's books on crime with no apparent difficulty, but wearing his jumpers he was naturally annoyed - especially after a long day of flu vaccinations with screaming kids.

The three little girls were all chattering, passing the book amongst them, arguing, conspiring.

He stood there for a moment, just staring. All three noticed his gaze and looked up at him. Their eyes were impossibly wide as they looked at him, and John immediately noticed how the black-haired girl's clenched her hand into a fist, the little blonde-hair girl seemed to shift back away from the door, and the red-head stood up, pushing up John's jumper sleeves (which was pointless), and stepping forward: face set and determined.

"Hello," she said in a clear voice, "Who are you?"

"I live here," he said slowly, while wondering where the bloody hell his flatmate was.

His statement caused all three girls to move together, whispering to and from in debate.

As they talked his mind started running over each possibility: a) they were Sherlock's nieces (did Mycroft even have kids?) or b) they were Sherlock's illegitimate children (for the dark-haired one this was possible … for the others less likely) or c) they were for a case and … no, he wouldn't … Sherlock wouldn't actually kidnap a bunch of kids would he? No way … that … it would …

Why I couldn't have a normal flatmate, he thought wistfully, one that didn't kidnap five year olds.

Meanwhile the trio seemed to make up their minds about something and the red-head spoke again. "Are you John Watson?"

He was leaning towards kidnapping.

"Yes,"

The blonde-one leapt up. "John! HURRAH!"

She made a rush towards him but the dark-haired one grabbed her hand, pulling her back.

"But it's -"

"How do we know that?" said the dark-haired one, "He could lying - he could be _Mycroft_!"

All three girls shuddered.

John frowned, maybe they were Mycroft's … but no they'd call him Dad then. This wasn't making any sense. At all.

"You girls know Mycroft?" he asked.

"Well no …" said the red-haired girl.

Yep, no sense.

"Then why don't you like him?"

The dark-haired one scoffed. "Are you one of his spies? We aren't scared,"

She tried to look threatening, standing up but she barely came up to John's knee, being the smallest of the girls. Her eyes were stormy, her fists clenched and he supposed he should be intimidated … but he wasn't. He really wasn't. Not in the slightest. Though there were three he could already see the blonde-girl wouldn't be any trouble so he'd only have to deal with the red-head and the dark-one if they started pitching a tantrum.

And where the hell was Sherlock?

He sighed. "No, I'm not,"

"How do we know if you're -"

"Girls, really," came a deep, unmistakably Holmes voice from behind John, "stop accusing John of not being John,"

John spun around to see his flatmate carrying shopping bags … filled with little girl's clothes. His jaw slackened as Sherlock dropped the bag just before them and sunk onto their sofa, staring at the ceiling.

"Sorry, Sherlock," they chorused.

"Apologise to John as well."

They all stared at him, and John shifted slightly now.

"Sorry, _John_," they said and then turned their attention back to the clothes Sherlock had bought.

John watched them for a moment but then looked over at Sherlock. "Sherlock - a word?"

Sherlock glanced over at him, "Yes?"

"In private,"

The consulting detective sighed. "John, I've just been out getting -"

"Sherlock - now."

He then proceeded to walk into the kitchen near the fridge. Sherlock let out an overdramatic sigh, getting to his feet. The girls hardly paid attention as they were enthralled with the clothes - except of course the dark-haired one who was glaring his way. He shot her a look back and that only strengthened her resolve.

John rolled his eyes.

She stuck her tongue out.

Sherlock who was coming over at this point looked between them, shaking his head.

"Really, John?" he said with an exasperated sigh and leaning back on the kitchen table. "Really?"

"_'Really, John?_'" repeated John, staring at Sherlock incredulously, "That is all you say - how about an explanation as to why there are three five-year olds in our living room."

"Why is it an issue - you're good with kids,"

"Where does everyone get this impression from," said John.

"Because you're made of kittens," called the blonde-one from the living room.

John spluttered and Sherlock turned his head sharply.

"No eavesdropping!"

"Sorry, Sherlock!"

It was slightly unnerving the way they spoke in unison.

"That's better," said Sherlock and then turned back to John, "Well anyway - I didn't think it would be an issue,"

John fought the urge to bang his head against the wall. "Just explain why you've kidnapped them,"

"Kidnap?"

"Well how else would you get -"

"John - why would … why do I bother," muttered Sherlock. He drew in a deep breath, "You know my experiment,"

"Which one?"

"The petri dish one,"

"No, I really don't,"

Sherlock sighed. "Yes you do - you told me not to get the fungus near the jam this morning … anyway as I may have knocked some jam into it … and then I was trying to counteract it with sodium - " he stopped, and stared at John, "Short version?" he asked after a pause.

"Yes," said John.

"Something reacted and it started growing very fast - so I separated it but then it kept going ... until they appeared. Now if I could only work out what I added -"

John interrupted him, eyes wide. "I'm sorry - are you saying that fungi in your petri dish turned into those three girls?"

"Yes."

"Are you honestly expecting me to believe this?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Honestly?"

"John, if I were to lie to you, trust me it would be far more convincing," said Sherlock, "even I know how ridiculous it sounds - which is why I need to work out what exactly caused the -"

"So three little girls just popped out? Just like that?"

"No, not just like that - the fungi made egg sacks of some kind - you should've seen the mess they made when I -"

"Seriously," said John, "That is what happened?"

Sherlock nodded. "I'm not lying."

John sighed, thinking it over. True, if Sherlock wanted to lie then he would come up with something far more convincing - and believable to begin with. He wouldn't just spout this utter nonsense … but three humans just growing from a petri dish in a matter of minutes? Coming out fully formed, looking perfectly normal, and speaking like they had gone to some posh pre-school? In their flat?

He looked at Sherlock. "Seriously?"

"Yes," asserted Sherlock, "Why would I want to kidnap small children anyway - I'm insulted you thought that actually. I mean really …"

John needed a strong cup of tea … and something more.

He drew in a deep breath. "I'm not saying I believe you but … why are they wearing my jumpers?"

"Well I wasn't going to let them run around nude was I?"

"You have clothes too," pointed out John.

Sherlock shifted and mumbled. "You'rejumpersarewarmandcuddly,"

"What was that?" asked John, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing,"

"It was -"

"Sherlock? John?"

John turned around and saw the three little girls had come over to them. They had all stripped off John's jumpers and were now wearing the clothing that Sherlock had bought: the redhead in a pink dress, the blond-haired girl in a light blue t-shirt and denim skirt, and the black-haired girl in khaki shorts and a light-green top.

John started to laugh. It was too much. Of course Sherlock had created the _perfect_little girls.

"Why is he laughing?" asked the redhead, looking at Sherlock.

John could feel tears at the corner of his eyes.

"Yes, John, why are you laughing?" asked Sherlock.

"Are you being …" John stopped himself remembering that a) this was his flatmate who didn't know about the solar system or James Bond, and b) that if it wasn't for his much younger cousins he wouldn't know about it either - it really wasn't common knowledge in his age group after all.

He drew in a deep breath, and addressed all three. "Has Sherlock given you names?"

"No," they chorused.

He glanced at Sherlock.

"Well I was busy cleaning the flat - and buying clothes," said Sherlock. " …"

John frowned. "What was that last bit?"

"Nothing,"

He narrowed his eyes but decided he'd confront Sherlock later about it.

He turned back to the girls. "Would you three like names?"

"Yes …" said the blonde-haired one. "Please, John?"

He bent down to their level.

"Okay then - Blossom," he pointed to the redhead and she beamed - on cue the blonde giggled and John felt a smile tug at his lips as he pointed to her, "Bubbles …" the dark-haired girl looked at him expectantly all previous fierceness gone. Maybe it was then it hit John that these girls were actually real and human. The way she looked at him, laying all her trust in him with her wide overly big green eyes - then again …

"And Buttercup," he finished and she smiled.

He continued, "- because it also begins with a 'B'"

She scowled, he threw her a cheeky wink, and Bubbles giggled.

He started to stand again when Bubbles caught him in a hug.

"Thank you, John," she murmured into his jumper.

He was frozen for a second, glancing up at Sherlock who just shrugged. He sighed, went to wrap his arms around her when the other two joined in.

They were surprisingly strong.

Bone-crushingly strong.

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><p><em><strong>Fin ... for now.<strong>_

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> Thank you very much for reading - thoughts are appreciated. :)


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